


Two

by notjustmom



Series: Mirrors [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, coffeeshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:59:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: The night John meets Sherlock.





	Two

He walked in the rain when he returned from Afghanistan. He had spent too many months in the desert; could still taste the sand in his mouth, feel it in his scalp, no matter how often he washed his hair, he still felt the grit and hoped the London rain could finally wash him clean. So night after night, he walked, until the night when he finally just wanted a warm, dry place and a cup of tea. He looked up from the puddle he was staring into, away from the rippling clean shaven, tight-lipped, closely shorn figure, who needed a cane to hobble through town on, though he had been told over and over, 'just talk a bit, Cap'n, maybe it would help -' to see a brightly lit coffee shop in front of him. Besides the rather bored looking barista who was refilling the napkin holders, only one other figure, tapping madly on his mobile, was present. Perhaps...John shook his head, and pushed the door open, cringing at the tinkling bell announcing his arrival. 

The mad tapper didn't bother looking up from his mobile, and the barista continued filling up the napkin holders. He actually was as invisible as he felt. He sighed as he crumpled into his seat and lowered his hood, then squinted at all the choices of coffee drinks scribbled in chalk on a board above the counter, wondering if the auburn haired girl behind the counter could just throw a teabag into a Styrofoam cup and add a bit of hot water -

"Afghanistan." A voice yawned at him.

"Sorry?"

"The patches on your jacket, haircut, tan lines -"

"Yeah." John squinted at the board once more and whispered, "just a cuppa tea -"

"I wouldn't. She can make anything you want with espresso and milk, even do those damn pictures in the foam, but, tea -" The man shook his head, then finally glanced in John's direction. "My landlady, however, is a genius with a tea bag and a kettle, biscuits may cost you a ten minute lecture about carrying a brolly on a rainy night - ." He stood up and threw a few pounds on his table and nodded a good night to the girl at the counter. "Just a half block, if you are interested - " 

John looked over and drew in a sharp breath as green eyes, no, blue - no, hazel - blinked at him once then looked away, half shyly, half almost angrily.

"Never mind. You just looked wet and cold and Molly's closing up - she has a shift at Bart's in ten minutes - just thought -" his words trailed off and he shrugged as he tied his bright blue scarf around his neck and drew on his gloves.

"I'd like that, very much, if -" John managed to breathe out as he struggled to get to his feet and his cane clattered to the floor.

The bright eyes jumped as if he wanted to help, but he paused and waited for John to recover. Then walked to the door and held it open. "See you tomorrow, Molly."

"Night, Sherlock, I'll let you know if -"

Sherlock blushed and mumbled, "I'll stop by the lab tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure." Molly grinned at him in a way that made Sherlock roll his eyes, but John noted a slight upward slant of the fullest lips he had ever seen, before the previous slightly bored, neutral look once again schooled his sharp features. John bit his lip, trying to compose himself as he limped towards the tall, dark figure who waited for him. 

"Capt - sorry, just John, John Watson, old habits-" John tried to work his mouth into a semblance of a grin, but gave up halfway.

"Sherlock - but you knew that. Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective." John blew out a sigh of relief as Sherlock had shoved his hands down into his pockets, so he didn't have to try to rearrange himself in order to shake hands before they made their way into the storm darkened evening.


End file.
